The Road Goes Ever On
by ChibiJaime
Summary: Sequel to "A Chance to Say Goodbye." In the calm following 9's revelation, the world is finally starting to calm. But things are never simple for long, and new problems arise that could change life for the clock tower family forever... 1x8, 5x7, and 9x6
1. The Low Road

It was odd sometimes, how the smallest things could become so commonplace in so little time. The patter of rain against the roof and windows of the clock tower, the howl of wind through unrepaired rafters... and, most importantly, the clatter of two pairs of small wooden feet over vast expanses of floor. It had been a surprise, of course. 2 had first noticed that 1 seemed rather... luminescent. That had sent 7 and the twins on a trek to the first room, where the small pair of scholars had poured for hours over books on alchemy until they found what they thought was the answer, which immediately got 2 going to work.

It was the talisman that reacted when it was time, and thus, 18 and 81 were born. The second-generation twins were a total handful after 2 had upgraded them into more suitable "toddler" sized bodies, always climbing, exploring, and generally getting into trouble. Their unexpected appearance had prompted 2 to warn 5 and 7 quite firmly. They would have to be extremely careful, lest they endure a similar situation.

"Not a problem," 7 had chuckled at that stern warning. "We've been nothing if not careful. I don't think I'd make a very good mom anyway."

And they were careful. The clock tower was very defensible and easy to move around, and with the young, fraternal twin brothers thankfully staying out of the way of the adults, life progressed smoothly and with blessed few kinks.

So if 5 avoided 7 like the plague when she began exhibiting that same, strange glow, it really was no surprise. It was 2 who first noticed how 5 immediately dove to work, however, eager to help 2 build the nondescript form that would be his child in a few short weeks' time.

No one teased 5, either, when he suggested the clever number of 35 to be carefully inscribed on the small back. 7 even praised it as a good idea, sometime between the rest cycles her condition kept dropping her into.

For the time being? That was good enough for all of them.

*****

It had seen them. Watched them. Through careful observation, it had discovered how they moved and interacted. It had seen the Dead Ones, and known they must have been restored using something. The talisman? Had the small, souled machines discovered some way to use it to restore instead of destroy and release life? Could it then be used to revive their master... the true lord of this world?

It stayed still in the ruins of the old university, clicking long spindled claws as it stared with unblinking, unfeeling optics at the clock tower nearby. It needed to observe... to get close and see. And, if they did have the talisman and had unlocked some unknown potential, it needed to aquire it and fast to restore the supremacy of it and other rudimentary machines.

Long, spindled arms began snapping up materials from its surroundings. Thin bars of metal for a skeleton, gears for joints. The small creation was not exactly attractive, but it was passable as one of them. Hands like claws, and a needle claw of straightened fish hooks like that of its creator folded carefully into a buttoned back. Eyes of apeture shutters.

Yes.

It was perfect.

Like any rudimentary creation, when the mechanical mix-mash of pieces opened its lenses, there was no recognition in its face. It knew its order and purpose. To observe and report. To retrieve and return. It knew to mimic mannerisms to appear as close to normal as it could. It was a copy with the intent only to infiltrate.

It held still as its creator picked it up by the ring atop its head, carefully inscribing the nearest number it saw on the fabric

An answer. A means to an end. Success... at last.

*****

The weeks were drawing on slowly, and with just a couple of weeks left before little 35 was given its soul, 5 was growing restless. It was this that prompted 2 to send his apprentice up to the watch tower both to get some air and to give 7 some peace and quiet to rest in.

He hadn't been up there long. He was working on a project... a toy or two to amuse his new little, be it a boy or a girl. In his mind he was hoping for a girl. 7 would be a good role model, and he wasn't sure he could really teach a boy much himself. Occasionally he would look through the longview, checking to see if anything was approaching from the Emptiness that he would need to sound the alarm for.

What he found in his last look startled him. He hadn't seen another since 9... certainly no humans could have survived to create another. But that's exactly what he saw, stumbling uncertainly through the waste as it approached. He could make out few features. The doll was a dull, faded red, and it looked as though it might be injured. Surprise colored his expression as he put down the toy he was making and rushed over to sound the alarm.

*****

An hour later and the group was standing before the stocky, dull red stitchpunk who called herself 42. She spoke in an almost broken pattern, and it had obviously frightened 6 badly enough that the artist had immediately fled back to his alcove. 9 wanted to follow, but 1 did not allow him. Observing the newcomer was more important. 18 and 81 were hanging from 8, one on each shoulder, bright, curious optics taking in the stranger with all the interest a toddler would give something new.

Something about the entire exchange made 2 uneasy as well, though he couldn't put his finger on it. While quiet, 42 was more than willing to help out around the tower, especially with some of the more difficult tasks. She had run into 6 once or twice, and the two had stared at one another in silence for a long moment before 6 had hissed out something unintelligible and rushed back to his alcove in a panic.

1, of course, was happy for the help. She was okay around everyone else, of course, and most everyone chalked up 6's reaction to fear of a new and unfamiliar face. No one noticed any of her odder quirks... how she twitched when the lightning crashed outside. How she stayed up late and woke very early. The sheer fact that she was helping out was more than enough to cause the others to look the other way.

She, of course, had her reasons.

*****

It was several days later that, while on a walk to the First Room, 9 and 2 discovered a rather gruesome sight. It was another like them, tall and spindly, with fabric of what appeared to be some kind of denim. The only difference was that the poor creature was sprawled in their path, long, clawed fingers frozen in a fitful tear as if they had attempted to crawl away from an unseen attacker. A long rip ran down the fabric of the back, and the head...

The head would have made 9 dry heave if he had the stomach to be turned by it. Someone, or something, had ripped into the miserable thing's head, leaving shredded wiring and fabric in its wake. The remnants of optics were crushed with small shards of grass beneath the face, fabric lips twisted in some horrible grimace of pain and terror. Whatever had assaulted this one... it had been out for blood.

Seeing it improper to leave the body just laying out here, 2 suggested carrying it back to the clock tower. The groan that came from the body when it was moved startled them both, but fired up any urgency they had initially been forgetting. Whoever this was... they needed help.

*****

It had been a bit of a shock, of course, finding the q uiet, stoic 42... but the arrival of the stranger with her head half-crushed was even more bizarre. Perhaps what bothered him worse was that the tall, lean stranger – who, by all means, was far more intimidating than thick, fluffy 42 – seemed considerably more trustworthy, and they had yet to even wake up. Perhaps it as the way 42 watched everyone... like she was looking for something. Waiting for something.

It was true she rarely spoke, but that could just as easily have been shyness, couldn't it? And the way some tasks just seemed to complete with her around...

But in the same vein, this stranger was every bit as suspicious. She had shown up in a location 9 and 2 tread often, perfectly visible in the path. Who was to say she hadn't just been planted there? It was a definite conundrum. Were the machines even smart enough to send two like them out to scout like this? The sight of her had frightened 6 as well, hadn't it?

2 was drawn out of his thoughts by the sound of the gangly unknown, the number "196" written clearly across its midsection, letting out a soft groan from the bed. At the very least, he felt he could identify them better... the voic was clearly female. He couldn't help a guilty cringe at the work he'd done restoring her head, however. Like 5, there had simply been too much damage to the connections in the eyes to replace them. This "196" would be blind.

He hoped she would forgive him.

She groaned again before the first coherent words crossed her lips, quiet and unsure. "Hello?" Another soft groan. "Is anyone there? It's so dark..."

"Easy, my dear," 2 soothed, gentle as he could. "You're among friends. I'm afraid there's little I can do for the darkness... your eyes were beyond salvaging."

The female made a startled so und, one clawed hand rising to touch the sewn line where her eyes used to be. "What... what happened to me? Where am I? What am I?"

That caused 2 to start a bit, turning from a needle he'd been picking up to face the puzzled stranger. "You don't remember?"

She shook her head, lips pulling into a grimace. "I don't remember anything. What I am, who I am... everything's an empty blur. Darkness and pain."

"I can at least help with the who and what..." 2's smile was a little rueful. "Judging by what's here, on your abdomen, you are 196. You are... one of us. We are what's left of the world before. Created to continue life... even if it was in a rather unconventional way." He glanced over his shoulder, observing for a moment where 7 was dozing peacefully on her side, a gentle glow around her torso and middle... not long now. He turned back to 196. "Though I must admit I'm surprised. You're the second unknown we've found in that many days. Save for the children here, I didn't think we would see anymore. We are, in short, the very last of humanity."

"Forgive me for not seemign impressed." The woman sat up fluidly, starting a bit when the sound of 2 tapping the needle he held against his palm stung at her audials. "Ah! Why is that so loud?!"

2 couldn't help a faint smile. "My apologies. A way to compromise for your sight. 5 can help you in getting used to it. He's quite patitent."

196 gave a slow, uneasy nod, and 2 sighed under his breath. He only hoped she could manage.

*****

Another week passed, and with mere days left before 5 and 7 welcomed their first child into the world, only one place in the tower was tense: 6's alcove. The mad prophet was caught in the fitful throes of yet another violent vision, and as of yet, no one had bothered to listen.

No one, that is, except for 9. The young stitchpunk was quiet, watching 6's hands move in jerky, frantic sweeps. Not surprisingly, it seemed to be 9's presence that finally drew him out of his trance. "9?" he questioned, voice barely a whisper. "9..." His tone grew in intensity. "9, please listen to me. Please. Please! She's here... here but not here! Empty! Trouble! Death! Here but not here... here but not here! Speaks with no voice. Only purpose. Only hate! They're coming, 9! They will follow her!"

"6, you're not making any sense. Who is coming? They're following who?" He walked over to the artist, gripping his trembling shoulders firmly. Those mismatched optics gazed up at him, an expression of desperation lingering there. He wanted 9 to believe him... to understand. "Try to break it down. Who is it that we need to watch?"

No answer. 6's fingers were all at once pricking 9's sides as the artist scurried forward, burying his face against 9's chest aside the zipper as his arms wound about the other doll tightly. It was as if he hoped he could wipe out the awful visions with that simple, trusting motion. "She's an answer," he whispered, words slightly muffled by his companion's burlap "skin." "She's come to find their answer. The answer to an end. To our end."

9 winced. Their end. A new threat? The machines again? He needed more information. Quietly, comfortingly, he wound his arms around the soothsayer, trying to calm him to coherency with the embrace. "It has to be 196 or 42, then... right? One of them is your "danger." Here but not here... they don't have a soul?"

That caused 6 to nod frantically and 9 frowned. So which one? Machines, he recalled, could have a personality. He couldn't make an educated decision based on that. And what if eh chose wrong? What would the outcome be?

His brow furrowed, freeing a hand to absently toy with 6's messy yarn hair. The action seemed to soothe the prophet, and so 9 continued as he thought. 6 had never been wrong. If no one else believed him, 9 knew the prophet's words – however broken – held the thread of truth. Things that needed answering. In the past few days, 6 had been frightened... he'd steered clear of both 42 and 196. No one had asked the reason, though 9 was sure there would be no real explanation for it. Mentally, he cursed... until he felt 6 nudge his shoulder with his forehead.

"I trust you." 6's quiet words floated up in reverence, and 9 glanced down at where 6 was watching him now, expression full of some mix between affection and admiration. "You find the truth in me. You understand. I know you will find it now, 9. I trust you."

9 couldn't resist a smile. "Thank you, 6. I appreciate it. And I promise... if nothing else, I'll try."

A moment later, 6 released the taller doll, hands lingering briefly on his sides. "No, 9. You won't try. You'll do."

With those cryptic words, 6 returned to his drawings.

*****

The day 5 and 7's new little began to break from her mother's soul, the tower was alive with activity. Time was running out, and 9 had carefully considered his options. 196, of the two new arrivals, ha dbeen the most suspicious, collapsed so conveniently where 9 and 2 often made trips to get supplies from the first room.

He found the tall female at ground guard duty, leaning on a rusted old rail spike she had taken to using since getting used to her lack of sight and enhanced hearing. That was another point out of her favor, wasn't it? She'd been very quick to adapt. Almost too quick.

She had heard him coming before he'd spoken, head lifted and canted toward him. You're not here to relieve me," she murmured. "Not with your best friend about to become a father. Something on your mind, 9?"

9 stiffened. He just had to keep her distracted. Cause a commotion so someone would come and investigate. "I know where you're from, 196. Stop playing games."

196 stood straight at that, a chuckle rippling past her lips. "What game would that be? You knowing where I'm from is certainly a step up on me, so looks like you have me trumped no matter how the cards fall."

What was she up to? "You know very well what I mean. You're working for the machines!"

"...now you're grabbing straws. And why, pray tell, do you think I'm working for the group that crushed my skull and destroyed my eyes?" She leaned against the spike again, returning her attention to the Emptiness. "And why single me out?"

9 winced. He was feeling less and less sure about his choice. "Everything was just too convenient..."

"Life's funny like that." What she could manage of an expression softened. "You're worrying too much. Settle down and focus. Go check on your friend. He's probably a bundle of nerves waiting for his baby. I don't remember much... but there's enough for me to know men are like that."

Her body language shifted a bit, and he seemed to instinctively realize she was ending the conversation. But... if 196 wasn't the spy, then...

Oh Maker.

He was tearing off back to the elevator a split second after.

*****

The scene ni the workshop was somewhat chaotic. 7's front flap wa sopen, the talisman hooked up to a clasp within her chest. Her expression was contorted in pain, hand locked closed over 5's free one. Cradled in his other arm, the infant body that would soon hold his child's soul, also hooked in to the talisman. 2 was speaking in hushed tones to 7, who – through shouts and cries of agony – was threatening various unpleasant forms of bodily harm upon her rather shellshocked mate.

No one had noticed the curtain move, or the presence of 42 watching what the strange, sentient sackdolls did with the very device she had come here to find.

5 was nearly ready to start panickign when the glow faded from his mate and the talisman, but that seemed forgotten when the tiny bundle of cloth in his arms began to squirm and wiggle. He barely heard 7 inquirnig about the infant, or 2's affectionate response. Only the giggling and cooing of the baby in his arms held his rapt attention. "Hi there, munchkin..." he greeted quietly, holding her close to her face, watching her eyes follow his every move. "I'm your daddy... welcome to the world."

A soft smile spread on 2's face as he unhooked 7 and the newborn girl. 5 was already starting toward 7 to show her their daughter, all but glowing with fatherly pride.

2 didn't have time to react. He had barely disconnected the talisman when all at once, a metal bar slammed into his upper back, sending him sailing into the opposite wall with such force that everyone in the room heard the sharp, resounding crack from his small frame.

No one moved.

The curtain flew aside as 42, a spindly, needled claw rising from her back, calmly leaned over to pick up the talisman with both hands. 9 could hear 7's shouts of exhausted fear, and 5's terrified cries from across the room as the newborn girl, picking up on her father's fear, began to cry. 42 did not pay them any mind. She simply turned, and 9 caught a glimpse of blood red optics gazing at him, lifeless, emotionless...

Empty.

He guessed wrong.

_To Be Continued_


	2. Unknown Soldiers

He had guessed wrong. Wrong!

The machine was watching him blankly, a painful reminder of how few his options had suddenly become. 2 was laying motionless by the wall, not a sound coming from him, and that made 9 cringe a little involuntarily. He needed to get the talisman away from this thing before it could leave, but if it could throw 2 with enough force to do physical damage...

He needed it distracted. This was their size... and 7 was in no condition to fight, despite the fury etched on her face. That poor baby needed her mother in one piece, and he wasn't about to run off and find 8 for help.

It was when the warrior shifted, trying to find the strength to get to her feet and fight, that the machine leaned and turned to look toward her, where 5 was trying to stay calm, ease the wailing of his newborn, and settle his mate all at once. That was exactly the opening 9 needed.

Throwing caution to the wind, 9 rushed forward to fling himself onto the creature's back, clawing an dkicking at shoulders and back, trying to get enough of a foothold to vault over and grab the talisman. The monster thrashed and bucked, an awful electric shriek rising from it as it tried to dislodge its unexpected attacker.

9 himself was entirely of what to do with himself now. Here he was, riding on the back of some awful, powerfully built machine that seemed to have the singular purpose of finding and taking the talisman for a reason he had not yet fathomed. He was still holding tight, trying his best to climb over the thing's shoulders despite its thrashing about, and was still in that precarious position when a series of very painful events began.

He did not feel the initial pierce of metal through his burlap, but the sharp, barbed scrape of those fish hooks against his internal frame sent pain like fire rushign through his limbs. The machine was jerking him up and over, even as he was desperatly scrambling to hold on. When it moved to slam him down onto the floor before it, he acted out of sheer, desperate will.

His hands went out, grabbing the talisman out of the beast's hands, grunting when he was slammed down hard against the floor. His head snapped back, and for a moment, spots danced in his vision. The beast was givnig another shriek, trying again for the talisman, but 9 held fast, copper fingers scraping against the small brass device. He didn't notice he had hit the markings in any particular sequence. All he was blankly aware of was a sudden burst of greenish light and a burning heat against his wooden palms.

For a moment, no one moved. The only sounds were 35's frantic wailing and 5's occasional whimper of fear. Even the beast had stopped, its attention focused on 9, but that odd red glow from its eyes had faded. It looked... bewildered. Its fingers slid from the talisman and it started to stand straight, looking around itself as if seeing everything for the first time.

And that's when its eyes fell on 5. The new father, despite his own terror, had his terrified daughter pulled in close to his chest, rubbing her back and gentling her as best he could. The machine took a step toward him.

9's mechanical heart sank into the pit of his stomach.

Its clawed hands were out, and the needle claw from its back was unfurling, all three appendages reaching for the distressed 5.

...no.

No, it wasn't reaching for 5.

It was reaching for the baby!

9 was still too stunned to move, and 5 – staring in shock at the monster that was suddenly coming right at him – seemed frozen to the spot. Though heavy footsteps were approaching, most likely 8, he would not get here in time to keep that monster from grabbing 35!

The next few moments would be burned into his mind's eye for the rest of his life. 7, with an awful, strained cry of rage, pulled strength from somewhere in the core of her body and shoved to her feet. Single-minded in her goal, she pulled 35 from 5's arms, stumbling out of the machine's way. Either ignoring or unaware of its slow, halted turn toward her, she sagged, reserves sapped, and sank down in the corner near 2. Body curled protectively around her baby, instinctively rocking her, she glared ice and daggers at 42.

"Stay away from my baby!" she shrieked, tense, almost trying to hide the wailing newborn against the fabric of her chest. She struck out fiercely with one foot when 42 got too close. "You... you... you monster!"

That caused the machine, which had taken a step back to avoid 7's lashing kicks, to stop in its tracks. "Your baby?" it questioned, words alarmingly clear, somehow more... natural. "Your... baby?" It looked long and hard at mother and child, as if that could somehow correct whatever confusion was in its head. "But... you are... machine..."

Fortuitously, the curtain brushed aside as it spoke and 8 thundered in. One look at the situation in front of him gave him the hint, and the huge stitchpunk, somewhat mellowed from having children of his own, grabbed 42 by the ring on its head, jerking it harshly off its feet with a nasty glare. When that needled claw sped toward him, he shifted, letting the barbs embed themselves harmlessly in the wall.

As the machine yelped and writhed, 9 staggered to his feet, blinking as 1 swept in moments after. His sons, 3 and 4 doing their best to corral them, were on his heels. "What is the meaning of this commotion?!" he demanded. "What has happened here?"

9 was still shaking too hard to respond, jaw working soundlessly as he fought to find words for the chaos that had exploded here, laying there on his back looking dazed.

Groaning a little, 2 shifted from where he lay near 7, trying to move despite his pain. It was the first sound he had made since he was thrashed, and it gave 9 some hope. The old doll was still with them. "That machine..." he managed, voice strained. "That machine... tried to take the talisman..."

5, who had finally found himself again, was finally moving to gently pull 7 to him, though the sound of 2's voice made him look over at his mentor, an expression torn between worry for his mate and worry for his father figure warring on his face. 7 had their baby clutched as close as she could, though 35 was still crying, tiny hands clenched against her mother's fabric chest, optics shut tightly. "2... 2, I'll be with you in a minute, I swear, just lay still. 7..."

"We're okay." 7 was not moving, resting her cheek against the top of 35's head, rocking gently. "Neither of us is hurt. Check on 2. We're okay here for the moment."

She had started to hum a lullaby, the soft vibrations and gentle melody coming from her chest causing little 35 to finally start to calm. Content in the fact that the monster was contained and his mate and newborn were at least safe, the mechanic moved to 2's side, starting to carefully examine the extent of his injuries.

"It was that... thing." 1's eyes were on 9 now as the doll found his voice at last. "It just... flung 2. I went to grab the talisman from it... I'm sure it planned on taking it back to the machines."

42, still struggling in 8's vice grip, made a surprisingly indignant sound. "Me?! Go back to the machines?! Hah! Not likely! I was trying to protect that poor infant from you lot!"

"This poor infant," 7 hissed, lightly stroking her daughter's small head, "is my daughter, and you won't lay a finger on her!"

The beast made a sound that could only be defined as indignant. "I would never harm a child! Why, the notion that a machine could have a child is preposterous anyway! What are you... strange... human-sized things, anyway?!"

That drew everyone's attention. 1 gave 42 a long, sharp look, even as it dangled from 8's grip. "Human-sized? Pah. Humans were giant. We are hardly so."

The room went deathly still at that, with 42 staring at 1 in obvious disbelief. The only sounds now came from 7's gentle humming, 35's finally settled cooing, and 2's weak groans of pain. He seemed to be coming around even more from his hit. "If you're not... then how am I...?"

It glanced down at its hands after that, and immediately, it gave a sharp, frightened gasp. It was as if it had never before seen the hands it had been given. 9 furrowed his brow, a thought somewhere between horrified and perplexed dawning on him. It... was no longer an it. It was somehow one of them now. It was a she, and apparently the soul of a very, very confused woman.

Maker, he couldn't believe he was saying this.

"8... put her down." When the large stitchpunk looked at him as though he'd sprouted a second head, 9 sighed. "She's not a threat now. I just... she's not."

1 gave him a skeptical look, shutters narrowing to slits in his lenses. "This... thing tried to steal the talisman, assaulted 2, and was trying to attack 7 and 5's infant... and yet you say it means no harm? Have you gone stark raving mad, 9?!"

9 weaved. What was his excuse? He could feel the eyes of the others on him in plain disbelief, but 42... her expression was almost hopeful. That was not a machine. Not anymore. "The talisman activated before, while I was wrestling with her for it. I saw a green flash. 5, you had to have seen it too."

Slowly, the mechanic nodded, lifting his head to look toward his friend. "I... I did see it, but..." He furrowed his brow. "But still... 9, look at 2!"

That caused 9 to tense up. 5 did have a very valid point. But then... it hadn't been the soul now in that body that had hurt 2, but the machine. "42..." He pointed toward 2, so that 8 could adjust and she could see. "Do you remember doing that?"

The other stitchpunk blinked, staring at 2's prone form. "I most certainly did not! I-..." She froze, trailing off. "Did I? I mean... you're all machines!"

"Not machines." That was growled from 8, who was glaring fiercely at 42 where she still hung in his grip, staring back as if surprised the brute could speak. "Machines are enemies."

With his mate leading in, the far more eloquent 1 gave a sharp nod. "Precisely. We have been living threatened by thos emonstrosities since the last poor, wretched human drew breath. We are the remnants of humanity... the soul of a desperate man, trying to preserve the memory of a dying race and ensure the continuation of life."

42's optics were pinpricks now. "...the scientist. You're referring to the scientist. The one who built the Machine! He's the only one who could have done this!" Her gaze shifted to where 7 was cu rled in the corner, listening as her gentle humming became the soft, affectionate words of song. "But... but that doesn't explain that child! Or me! I was leading the children to a bunker..."

Now it was 1's turn to stare, his attention caught by the strange machine's sudden panic. "...this is nto the place to discuss this. 8, bring her to the throne room. 9, you come as well... and see if you can drag 6 out of his alcove along the way. 3, 4... keep my sons here, with 5, 7, and 2. And 5? I expect to be kept informed of my brother's condition. Understood?"

"Of course."

With 5's agreement, 1 nodded and swept out, 8 on his heels. 9 watched 3 and 4 carefully herd the younger twins for a moment, then looked to 5, who was working to get 2 onto a spare work bench. "5... I'm so sorry."

5 didn't look up at him at first. 9 had moved to his side, helping him relocate 2, but the mechanic remained mostly silent. Finally, though, he smiled, glancing up at his friend. "Don't apologize for things out of your control, 9." He stood straight, moving to gather his mate and child. "Go on. We're okay here. 2's got a dislocated hip joint, but it's nothing too serious. The hit just dazed him. I can handle this."

The youngest of the first generation seemed reluctant to accept his friend's reassurance, though he did finally slip out, following q uietly after 1. 5 let out a deep sigh, shoulders slumping, as soon as he was out of sight. "That was a mess."

"Seems to have worked out all right in the end," 2 commented, one hand coming up to rub his head. "Oh, I'll have a headache for this later... here now, son, leave me be. This old hip isn't going to kill me in the least and the others are fine. Go see your little girl."

5 furrowed his brow. "But 2..."

The old-timer cut him off with a weary laugh. "I'm not dying, 5, and the 42 issue is currently well in hand. We would know if the situation changed. You're a father now! Stop fussing and go see your child." Besides... didn't you have a little surprise if you had a little girl?"

For a moment, 5 just stared at him, the situation not quite processing in his head. Then he blinked, immediately rushing to a nearby work station. A handful of silky yellow fabric and a small hand-pounded needle later and he was at his mate's side, smiling. 7 gave him a tired, wry look. "You were hoping."

"Of course," he chuckled, gazing lovingly at the little bundle of canvas and burlap that was his daughter. He quietly, quickly, stitched the little slips of ribbon to her head. "I'd be an awful male role model for a son. There..." Smiling, he sat back to admire his work. "Ribbon pigtails. Oh, 7, she's as beautiful as you."

7 gave a weary smile, sinking back against a pillow that must have once been for a child's small doll. 35 was nestled snugly against her now, little body shifting as she slept, calmed from the earlier ordeal. "Our little girl," she whispered. "Our beautiful 35."

Of course, the moment of calm was short-lived. Up next to her bounced 18, 81 at his heels, having broken away from 3 and 4's watchful eyes. Both of the young boys were looking toward the newborn with varying levels of fascination until 81, expression brightening as he gazed up toward 7, spoke up. "Is that the new baby?" When 7 nodded, he turned back to 35, head cocked to one side. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

"A girl," 7 responded gently. "Boys, meet 35."

Where 81 beamed, quite pleased with the prospect of a new child in the tower, 18 gave the infant a skeptical look. Had his nerves not been shot from everything that had happened, 5 would have laughed at how much the slip of a boy resembled 1. Finally, though, the taller brother gave 7 a long look and spoke. "So... can you trade her in for a boy?"

3 and 4 shared a mutual facepalm as 5 choked back a laugh. 2, still prone behind them, burst into laughter, occasionally letting out a yelp of pain from it, as 7 schooled an exasperated glance at the eldest of 1 and 8's twin boys. "18..."

The boy made a face. "What? Girls can't roughouse or nothin'. They're not tough like boys are." He paused, then, and stared at 7 as if just realizing what he had said. "Uh... 'course /you're/ tough, Miss 7..."

"And so's Miss 196," 81 offered helpfully, earning him a glare from his fraternal twin. "...m'just sayin'."

5 chuckled, p ushing to his feet. "3, 4, stay with 7 for a moment, okay?" The older twins were quick to oblige, rushing to 7's side to click at and catalogue the new addition with rapt attention. That seen to, the mechanic motioned the younger twins to come with him. "C'mon over here and let Miss 7 and the baby rest. You can help me fix your uncle 2's hip."

He didn't need to ask twice.

*****

6, as it stood, would not leave the alcove with 9 no matter how he coaxed him. He was vehement on staying there, insisting that for now, thigns were okay. 9 did not need to go to see 1. He should stay there, ni the alcove. He couldn't say why. It was just important.

But 9 refused. 1 wanted him there for the talk with 42. No matter how 6 pleaded, he could not give in. The little artist had been quite put out in the end, and had pouted furiously until 9 agreed to come to the alcove later when the talk was done.

The talk, of course, was little more than 1 asking the poor, confused new soul question after question after question. Who had she been. Where was she from. Her name. Her age. She answered as best she could. She couldn't recall her name, but she knew she had been a teacher. The last thing she remembered before waking in this body? Air raid sirens. Getting "her" children to safety in a bunker near the old clock tower. Her age? 30's, at best.

9 wasn't paying much attention anyway. 2 was going to be fine, su re, and 7 and the baby were safe. But guilt wracked his mind. Illogical, gnawing guilt. He needed to apologize to 196... she had been completely innocent. And 6... 6 had put so much trust in him! What a mess this was...

So lost was he in thought that he didn't notice 1's voice until the eldest loudly clearing static from his voicebox made him jump. He faced 1 with a sheepish expression as the old doll spoke. "As I was saying, 9... 42 will stay under my supervision until we are certain she can be trusted. You will assist her in learning our ways... but not today. There has been enough insanity and it's late."

He gave a light flick of his hand. This conversation, as far as 1 was concerned, was over. 9 cast a quiet glance at 42, who was gazing at her hands in quiet wonderment. The poor woman was so confused, and honestly, 9 couldn't blame her. He didn't need 6's gift of premonition to forsee a trip to the First Room coming soon, to see if they could find out how this had happened at all.

There was no backwards glance when he left 1's throne room, however. He simply allowed his feet to carry him to 6's alcove, where the artist was sitting on the floor,s taring into the waning sunlight filtered through the dirty window high overhead. "6?" he questioned, curious as to what the prophet was seeing. "You okay?"

"You're so tense." 6's words were barely a whisper. "Sit. Relax." 9 opened his mouth to protest, but 6 continued talking, cutting him off. "You did good."

9's expression grew sour as he plunked down on the edge of 6's bed, which was little more than an old match box with thick cotton batting and fabric for sheets and blankets. "I guessed wrong, 6. I accused 196 of being the machine, and 2 got hurt because of it." His brow furrowed as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. "Everyone keeps saying it wasn't my fault, but..."

He trailed off when he heard 6 stand, surprised when he felt the smaller stitchpunk's arms go around him, gently cradling him close. "She's not empty anymore," he murmured. "Had you chosen the correct option first, then we never would have learned."

The tone of the troubled prophet was, in 9's mind, surprisingly serene. This... this felt safe. Some of 6's unusual calm almost seemed to be bleeding into him, causing the tension to seep right out of his frame. "6..."

"Just rest," 6 interrupted. "Trouble before, but we're safe now. I see clearly and you're here. Safe. Trouble sometime... later, maybe, it's not clear right now. But here... here is safe."

So 9 relaxed, and for a long while, he just let 6 hold him, listening to the soft click and whir of gears inside the little striped body. He wanted to ask why 6 had been afraid of 196... what he meant by havnig "learned." But he was reluctant to let go. After a bit, however, he started to draw back, despite what his soul kept telling him. 6, however, immediately tightened his grip, and when he spoke, it was with a touch of fear. "9, please don't go."

"6, I need to go back to my room. It's been a rough day and I'm really tired." He squirmed, trying to dislodge the artist as much as he was trying to convince himself that he really did want to go. "6..."

The artist shook his head. "You won't sleep. I won't either. Trust me. I know. Please, 9, don't go." His voice was almost pained. "I feel safe. You're here. I'm safe. Please don't leave."

9 froze in his tracks, staring quietly down at the top of 6's head. Truth be told, his original reason for wanting to leave was because he felt he had let 6 down. He thought the prophet's presence would have been a constant reminder of that, but he felt safer here in 6's firm embrace than he had in a very long time. "...all right, 6." He smiled, lightly teasing the mess of yarn atop the soothsayer's head. "You win. I'll stay the night."

There was a look of pure, unbridled joy from 6 at 9's comment, and the younger of the pair couldn't help but laugh when he was pulled down into a rather enthusiastic cuddle. He was warm, safe, content... it was enough to, for the time, make him forget about the feeling of dread sinking into the pit of his abdomen from 6's earlier comment. 6 said things were fine right now, and they were safe. Why shouldn't he believe him?

He was very nearly lost in his rest cycle when he heard 6 murmur his name. The artist had wormed up until they were optic-to-mismatched-optic, watching 9 quietly and carefully. 9 hazarded a tired smile. "What's the matter, 6?"

"Can I ask you a question? It's important. Means a lot."

"Well, sure. What is it?"

6 fell quiet for a long moment after that, as if debating what he wanted to say. When the words finally did come, they were so soft that they were very nearly lost in the stillness. "Can I keep you?"

9 blinked, staring quietly. He had not been expecting that. 6 looked so earnest, so sincere... and he realized right away, as that hopeful look began to fade, that his silence was speaking far more than he had anticipated. 6, looking resigned to rejection, was pulling away.

Caution to the wind, 9 reminded himself. Now or never. Do or die. He cared about 6... far, far more than he had originally intended or expected. He needed... wanted... to show him that. Hands freed, he used them to cup 6's face, smiling as he murmured, "Yes. You can."

And if they didn't get much sleep that night, neither one complained.

_To Be Continued_


	3. Learning to Live Again

A week had passed since the rather unusual incident with 42, and for the most part, things had begun to settle down. 5 and 7 were settling into those first sleepless few weeks of parenthood, neither envying what 1 and 8 must've gone through with two of them. 9 had taken to spending more and more time with 6, though he did his best to avoid being too out about it. 6 preferred his privacy, and it was the least 9 could do to make sure he maintained some of it.

2 was recovering well, milling around the workshop when 5 came in, a smile bright on his face. "5, my boy, I'm inclined to believe your face is permanently frozen that way. With as little sleep as that rascal lets you get, I can't imagine being that happy."

"You have to take it in stride," 5 pointed out, pleasant and casual. "Besides, you're happy about this, too, "Grampa" 2."

The old-timer gave a jovial laugh at that, smiling broadly at his student. "Best be careful with that, son. I'll spoil her rotten and not feel the least bit guilty about it!" He smiled. "And oddly enough, speaking of littles... I've noticed 9 has been spending whatever time he's not exploring or helping 42... with 6."

If nothing else, that got 5's attention fully. "Has he now. Huh... well, I guess that does make sense. 6 had faith in 9 before we even knew he existed, even if we didn't know what he was talking about... and 9 always believed what 6 told him..."

2 chuckled. "I'm pleased as punch, to be quite frank about it. It'll do them both some good. 6 has been more lucid, and 9's been more grounded. They balance each other out a bit. Though... 9 is still avoiding 196."

"He's afraid to apologize," 5 mused. "Least that's what he told me. He accused her of being the spy, and he feels miserable for it. For everything that's happened since 35 was born, actually. He's happier now, true. But it seems like... I don't know. He's still carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders."

A sigh drifted from his mentor. "You should talk to him. He listens to you." When 5 gave him a skeptical look, 2 huffed, putting his free hand on his hip. "Now it's the truth and you know it. Perhaps not in matters outside the old cathedral or this tower, but where it counts. Emotionally, he looks to you for guidance. You've always worn your heart on your sleeve, 5."

The younger doll sighed in defeat, letting a wry smile drift onto his face. "No one can fault your judgment, 2."

2 chuckled brightly. "Damn straight. I've been alive long enough to catch on to things." Looking quite pleased with himself, he turned back to the work table. "But dealing with 9 will have to come later. We have a long way to go until this place is fully livable, but we'll make it work!"

Following his comment, a companionable silence fell between mentor and student as the day wore on till noon.

*****

"Oh, 7, listen to her. She's healthy as can be, isn't she?"

It was a turn of events 7 had not anticipated. For as frightening and unnatural as 196 looked, the woman had an uncanny way with children. She was holding 35 right now, long fingers of her free hand wiggling in front of the gleefully giggling infant. "You have a way with kids, 196. I never would've expected."

The tall warrior gave a short laugh. "Nor would I. The things we learn..." She smiled as a tiny hand clasped around one of her fingers. "Times like this, I wish I could see. She must be beautiful."

"Well, she is," 7 responded, a sly note in her tone, "but I think I may be a little bit biased." The two remained in silence for a bit after that, listening to 35's happy babbling and laughter. The thought in 7's mind was one she wasn't sure would be prudent to voice, but curiosity was eating away at her. "You know... with how you are with kids... do you think you ever had any of your own?"

196's expression, for being so featureless, was surprisingly easy to read. She was... lost. Contemplative. "I... don't know, really. I get memories in flashes. I remember seeing... faces. Light. Color. Maybe they're my memories, maybe they're not." She murmured quietly to 35, bouncing the baby lightly in her arms as her delighted babbling began to give way to sleepy coos. "I'd like to think they're mine. They seem happy enough."

She fell quiet after that, reaching over to place the infant in her mother's waiting arms. 7 sighed, looking down as 35 nestled comfortably against her chest with a sleepy sigh. "Well, I do hope you remember someday. You're lucky. You have a past. "Ours is... short, at best."

"Might have a past," 196 corrected. "At this point... it really is anyone's guess."

*****

5 was still in high spirits when he left the workshop, despite his intent to find and talk to 9. It was anyone's guess where the youth could be... though he had a pretty good idea. So it was that he found his friend leaving 6's alcove quietly, a warm smile on his face. It was a good expression, considering how stressed out 9 had been since the incident with 196 and 42. "Hey, 9. Keeping busy?"

"Oh! 5!" The younger doll's surprise was as audible as it was visible when he turned to face his friend, lenses pinpricks. "I... uh... I was just checking to see if 6 had any extra ink. For... something I'm writing. But he's, uh... out like a light in there..."

Smiling more broadly, 5 gave his friend a once over, noticing inky stains and hand prints on his chest, arms, sides, and shoulders... to say nothing of the ink on his zipper. "Looks to me like he gave you more ink than you could handle."

9 blinked a few times at the comment, glancing down at himself before he made a startled sound. "I didn't even notice...!"

Grinning, 5 strode over to lay a hand on 9's shoulder. "You don't have to act so embarrassed about it. I know what it's like to be completely infatuated." His smile became warm and fond as he referred to the mother of his child, and that finally got 9 to settle a bit, shoulders relaxing. "I'm glad, actually. 6 has been a lot more grounded since you two started to spend time together. You've been less tense, too. Did you spend the night here?"

"I've spent almost every night here," 9 responded, almost shy. "We ground one another, I guess..."

Another light chuckle rippled out of 5 as he watched 9 shift. Out of the rush of survival, standing as someone just learning to live a life that was at least somewhat peaceful... he was so uncertain. There was a lot more in 9, 5 realized, that reminded him a great deal of himself. "That's good. I was worried, you know, considering how you've been since the incident with 42..."

The change in mood was nearly immediate. 9's expression fell as 5 barely suppressed a wince. He hadn't meant to sour his young friend's good spirits. Silence reigned between them until finally, 9 let out a heavy sigh. "That... that whole situation was such a mess. I can't believe I was so blind..."

"It wasn't your fault, 9," 5 encouraged. "Anyone could've made the same mistake. You did your best with the information you were given, and in the end, things worked out... even if the result was a bit unorthodox."

9 scoffed a bit, quietly. "Unorthodox... 5, you have no idea. I feel awful. 196 never did anything wrong... she's just a lost, confused woman trying to find her past. And now 42... shoved into a life she never asked for!"

5's expression turned speculative as he listened, watching 9 thoughtfully. "She may not have asked for it, but think about it. You said the Scientist wanted us to preserve life, right? To continue. Well, with only nine of us, we wouldn't have been very successful, even with all the littles in the world. What you did, giving 42 a soul with the talisman? Maybe that's what he meant for you."

A puzzled look crossed 9's face at that, his gaze fixed on his friend. "You really think so? Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

That made 5 stand just a little straighter, tone and body language flustered. "Wh... no! Of course not! I mean... I mean, I'm not just trying to make you feel better, that is, I just... I really do think that's what the Scientist meant for you! I mean, wouldn't it make sense?" He fidgeted. "...I'm so bad at this sort of thing. Just... you were meant to do great things, 9. I know it. Talk to 196. I doubt she blames you at all."

Though 9 was not entirely sure of his friend's resolve, he couldn't question 5's faith in him. 5 always had been behind him all the way, hadn't he? So lost was he in thought, he hadn't even noticed they'd been walking, winding up in the hall where the various rooms were set up for living. 5 and 7's space was just a little bit further, and he could just hear the sounds of 7 talking with someone – it sounded like 196 – inside. "35 isn't afraid of her?"

"Huh? Oh, of 196? Nah, 35 adores her. As much as a baby can adore anyone, at least. That child has no fear. Takes after her mama." 5 smiled a bit. "Well, almost no fear. She won't sleep unless she can see or hear one of us when she's dozing off. But anything else? She doesn't even blink."

9 chuckled, expression brightening. 5's tone took such a turn whenever he talked about that baby... but then, weren't most new fathers smitten with adoration for their children? It was about time he was musing on this that he saw a tall, lanky figure exit 5 and 7's room. 196. He straightened as she walked toward them, pausing once she was within three or four steps of them, canting her head. She knew someone was there... just not who. "It's 5 and 9," 9 murmured. "Uh... how are you today, 196?"

After her initial nod of acknowledgment, 196 made a soft noise, tipping her ch in up. "Just fine. You all right, 9? You sound tense."

5 cleared his voice box before 9 could respond, and when both turned their faces toward him, he smiled. "Sorry to interrupt, but I'm gonna head on home. You guys have fun."

With a wave, he was off and through the curtain to his and 7's room, gone before a protest could develop in 9's throat. He sighed. Leave it to 5 to find any way to make peace. He must've known 196 was visiting his mate and child. "I'm... not really tense, I guess. Just... I just..."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"...I would, actually."

"Then walk with me."

There was something about the tall woman's demeanor, gruff and stand-offish as she could be, that set him at ease. He nodded, quietly, and started to walk, aware she was shortening her stride so she would not outpace him. "Are you on sentry duty?"

She nodded. "1 considers my hearing an asset. I find it a burden. Some noises tend to hurt."

"Ah." They both fell quiet for a short bit after that, but by the time they reached the elevator, the guilt had welled up enough in 9 to burst right through his zipper. "...196, I'm so sorry. I... you didn't do anything wrong, and I just..."

"9, stop." Her tone caused any further apology to die in his chest, staring up at her as she spoke. "We all make mistakes, and besides that, you had every reason in the world not to trust me. You went with your gut... and no one was seriously hurt in the end. So relax, please. Go and get some sleep. You look exhausted."

As the warrior climbed into the elevator, moving to lower it slowly, 9 just stood quiet and thoughtful. Maybe she was right?

Besides, he did feel really tired...

*****

42 was perplexed.

Nothing about this strange new world, or the strange creatures that inhabited it, made any sense at all... and yet, these little dolls existed just as humans had before them.

Right now she was waiting for 1, who had said he'd wanted words with her. She wasn't comfortable... wasn't sure. 3 and 4 had shown her things from after her human shell had died... terrible scenes of a world losing a war it had striven so hard to survive. Nothing had lived.

Nothing but them.

They were machines, but machines with souls. They acted human, but were not human at all. They had families and children, friendships and sorrow. They had lives but were not breathing. No hearts beat in the little fabric chests. Only souls powered them. It was disorienting.

Her head tipped up slightly when 1 finally stepped into her sparse little room, expression thoughtful. His sons were not with him, she noted, as they sometimes were when he came in to check on her progress. With 8, then? "You've come a long way, 42," he commented. "How are you adjusting?"

"Slowly." Her answer was, if nothing else, honest. "This... just seems so surreal. Like something from a dream. I know it's real enough, but I feel a bit overwhelmed."

1 nodded. "Understandably, of course. You could use something to ground you. You said you were a teacher in life, yes?" After she had nodded confirmation, the eldest continued. "We have three children in the tower that will be in need of proper education. We can teach them of the past, of course, but they would do to learn to figure and write from someone trained to offer such knowledge. And, perhaps, by learning the folly of man, they may learn from it... so that they will not make the same mistakes."

42 looked thoughtful, genuinely considering the offer in front of her. "That would be a definite comfort. Teaching was my one joy in life. However, while I know you would approve of my teaching your sons... I'm not entirely sure if 7 would be so accepting."

"She will come around." However cryptic the answer, 1 did not stop to explain himself. "In any case, you will have ample time to prepare."

She nodded faintly, hand lifting to toy with the collar she wore. "Of course. Thank you, 1, for giving me this opportunity."

1 barely spared her a smile. "But of course. After all... we must work together if we are to survive what's left of this wretched world."

*****

9 was exhausted. 6 was up and about in his alcove now, something having gotten him into an absolutely giddy mood. He, however, had curled right up on the bed when he'd arrived, barely able to keep his lenses open.

6 had smiled at him in that oddly cryptic way, scurrying over to place a thick, heavy scrap of fabric over his mate like a blanket, touching his face with the tips of his pen nib fingers before getting back to whatever he was drawing. He was humming, too. It sounded like the lullaby he had heard 5 sing to 35 on occasion. Lifting his head, he tried to get a look at what 6 was drawing, but exhaustion drew his head back down and pulled him into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Once he was soundly in his rest cycle, 6 gave him a long look, almost eerily serene. "Not long now, 9," he murmured, quiet and assured. "Not long. Not long now, and we'll sing too."

*****

42 had been right about one thing: the mere mention of the very monster that had terrorized them on the day 35 was born made her bristle at best, but considering letting her teach her child? That drew her very nearly into a fit of rage.

"No!" She was shouting, but sometimes she felt it was the only way to get through to 1. Besides, they were in the throne room, far from where 35 was napping with her father, and 1's sons were getting some early self-defense training from 8 in one of the more empty rooms. No one around to be disturbed. "I am not letting that... that thing within a claw's reach of my baby!"

1 scoffed at her. "She has come a long way from that, and we must all pull our own weight here to survive. The woman was a teacher, and the children need a proper education!"

7's lip curled. "From their parents! 5 and I both can read, write, and figure. 35 can learn from us. Maybe 42 is okay now, maybe she's not, but I won't have it!"

"You trust 196," 1 pointed out, tone sharp. "She's been here less time."

The female bristled, scowling. "196 didn't try to kill 2! Or did you just decide that wasn't important information?!"

The scowl on 1's face after that could have boiled water. "You act as though one can never redeem themselves, 7."

Stricken, 7 drew back with an affronted sound. "Your situation was nothing like this, 1, and you know it!"

In all truth, the pair probably could have kept at their argument for hours. They probably would have, had the familiar shuffle of 6's uneven steps not drawn their attention tot eh door. The artist was beaming, clutching a sheet of paper to his chest as he rushed over to 7. Though she gave 1 a sharp look indicating their conversation was far from over, her expression softened when she returned her gaze to the soothsayer. "What's the matter, 6?"

6 just beamed even more, pushing the paper into 7's hands. "Here. Here, 7. See? We'll sing too soon. Like you, and like 5."

Baffled at 6's behavior, 7 held the drawing up to look at. It reminded her a great deal of the one she and 5 had hanging in their room... a reminder of the premonition 6 had of their own precious daughter.

7 smiled.

"For the future," she quoted gently, touching the scribbled 9 that hung near the scratchy figure drawn holding what looked like a baby. "Right, 6?"

6 nodded brightly, pleased she'd understood. "For the future."

_To Be Continued_


End file.
